Mr Smith had one unticked item on his bucket list: to capture an elusive Drop Bear, one last hurrah with which to punctuate his life story. He dusted off his passport; forty-eight hours later, was deep in the rainforest of the Great Dividing Range with a tour guide called Jiemba. He was provided protective gear: a helmet of welded forks and a slathering of vegemite repellent behind both ears, but was so intent on watching the dense canopy above, shouting, “Here bear-bear-bear,” he marched into the arms of a murderous gympie-gympie. His liquified remains shipped home in a ziplock baggie.